There Is No Turning Back
by KlainesSecretChild
Summary: Blaine Anderson endures the hardships of his family life day after day. He tells nobody about what goes on behind closed doors. They assume he's from a picture perfect background. Little do they know, his true background may be the very thing that ruins his life forever… WARNING: Possible triggers, angst, mentions of self-harm and attempted suicide. Character death is probable.
1. Resentment for You

There Is No Turning Back

**Blaine Anderson endures the hardships of his family life day after day. He tells nobody about what goes on behind closed doors. They assume he's from a picture perfect background. Little do they know, his true background may be the very thing that ruins his life forever…**

Chapter 1- Resentment for You

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_Smash. Smash. Smash. _

The bottles of musty smelling alcohol go flying across the spacious room, shattering on the cream coloured walls. The contents drip sluggishly onto the carpet, the blots untraceable on the black coloured blanket that covered the floor. That's just the beginning of it all.

_Slam. Slam. Slam. _

The fist connects powerfully with the door; the hinges only just secure enough to ensure that the door remains intact. But only just. The sound makes the boy flinch, even though he's used to hearing it. The reaction is small, but noticeable. Especially by his father, whose eyes scrutinise every insignificant detail for any sign of retaliation or reaction from his son. He catches the action and saunters over to where his son is standing, back hunched over slightly in fear.

_Punch. _

Lights out.

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Blaine awakes groggily, the trigger of his blackout suddenly flooding back to him like a sponge absorbing water. A quiet groan is all that is heard and Blaine attempts to sit up. His head is not unlike a vast ball of lead that keeps him rooted to the floor. He's still in the living room. He tries to grab something to anchor himself up to a bolt upright position but to no avail. Instead, his fist clenches sickeningly around a shard of broken glass from one of the three bottles of beer his father had tossed at his head; the ones that had fortunately collided with the wall behind him instead. The pain of it rushes through him like a gust of wind, tearing up his insides as the jagged edges pierce the skin. The scarlet liquid oozes out of the opening, trickling down Blaine's hand. He watches it patiently until it reaches his elbow, crossing a very intense scar that runs along the width of his arm.

Blaine's time living in house has been haunting. He sleeps very little, the demons of his father disturbing his sleep, interjecting any rest Blaine can gather. By now all of the photographs are gone, their frames shattered into small fragments and emptied into the trash. That is his father's doing. Everything is. Except the faded scar on Blaine's left cheek. That is a symbol of his mother's elusive rage. She had gotten sick of Blaine's father but was too afraid to lash out at him. Instead, she let out all her negative emotions and slapped her son, sending him flying into the cabinet, which cascaded down on top of him. He had been bruised, but the scar from the smashed window had stayed with him until this day. Blaine would sometimes lightly ghost the length of the scar with his index finger, noting the horror of his past, all contained in the several scars adorning various places around Blaine's body. His arm, his face and his abdomen all being examples of afflicted areas. Blaine was deeply ashamed of his scars, the self-harming being the very epitome of his coping mechanisms.

He tells nobody. Nobody would understand. He would be subjected to many choruses of "Is there anything I can do?" and "Are you okay?" Two very obvious answers apply to those questions. No and no respectively. He hasn't even told Kurt. Blaine tells Kurt, his boyfriend, everything else. Just not this. Kurt is very opinionated, so Blaine figured that he would have very unkind words to say about his family and would possibly inform his father or the appropriate authorities about Blaine's situation. That's something Blaine definitely does not want. If anybody outside the house got involved, it would cause even more uproar with his father. This leads to more extreme methods of 'teaching' as Blaine's father labels it. Blaine never understood this and he probably never would in his life.

Wincing once more from the searing wound on his palm, Blaine cautiously strives to rise to his feet again. The head rush almost deters him, but his incredible determination encourages his stand. His feet are trembling and unsteady so he uses his good hand to maintain a firm stances, using the tall lamp for support. Blaine slowly takes a few tester steps forward with success. Using several household objects, Blaine finally arrives at the sink. He runs some cold water lightly over the wound like he was taught. Self-taught, that is. Blaine learned to patch himself up after one of his father's ferocious explosions soon after they started, so he was prepared. He hears footsteps approaching from behind him. With the copious amount of his defensive alarms ringing shrilly, Blaine turned. Water dripped from his hand onto the tiles, spattering the floor with moisture.

The door creaked open and Blaine stood with bated breath. It was his mother.

"Blaine, honey, what happened?" Mrs Anderson croaked. It was eight thirty A.M, according to the kitchen clock. Petunia Anderson had short grey hair with prominent wrinkles and an elderly posture. She became hooked on anti-depressants after having Blaine and lives off them ever since.

"What do you think happened?" Blaine spat, furious with his family, and with the world. His mother gave him a wary glance.

"Your father?" She sighed.

"Oh, congratulations. You solved the obvious mystery, Detective. Maybe it's time to get you a pipe and a magnifying glass!" Blaine said with mock enthusiasm, his wound protruding out in front of him for his mother to ogle at.

"Please don't Blaine. Let's get a bandage for your hand, sweetie." Petunia said with no hint of concern lighting up her face. Blaine snatched his hand away as she reached for it.

"I can do it myself. I've had lots of practise over the years without any help from you, so don't try and start the mothering act with me now." Blaine retorted astringently. Petunia stared deeply into Blaine's beautiful eyes for a long moment before leaving the room, the sound of her slippers rubbing against the cold floor being the only sound in Blaine's ringing ears.

Perhaps he had been a little too harsh, but Blaine thought it preposterous for Petunia to just start being a mother after all the years of abuse he had endured because of her husband, Joshua. Joshua Anderson was the person Blaine despised most in the world and for Petunia to still sleep in the same bed as him was peculiar to Blaine. Though it was clear to him that he had picked Joshua over him.

Blaine roamed the cupboards for a bandage before successfully administering the correct wrapping to his hand, the hue of the bandage clashing with his pale arm.

Blaine only wears short sleeved shirts at home. Home is a place for Blaine where all of his emotions are readable on his face and his parents know everything that goes on in his head. They've seen his wide scars on his arm, stomach and thigh and continued with life without even a second glance. They caused it. They have no right to care, anyway. That's what Blaine amused himself with to pretend that it didn't hurt that they paid his troubles no mind.

Blaine did not expect the rapid knocking on the front door. He had trudged over and sneakily checked through the front window about the identity of his visitor. He peered at the front door and saw the smiling face of his gorgeous boyfriend. Kurt was stood, attired magnificently as possible, waiting for an answer. Blaine panicked and scurried around the room, thinking of what to do first. Does he cover up his arm? Does he hide the glass on the floor or the wound adorning his hand? No. Instead, the irrational side of Blaine answers the door.

"Hey, Blaine!" Kurt greets happily. Blaine dreads the moment when he notices his hand or his arm. Thankfully, he doesn't, and Blaine lets him in.

"Hey, Kurt. What are you doing here so early?" Blaine says, startled.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to come out for breakfast." Kurt initially states. His eyes flicker to the haphazard glass scattered about the carpet and he frowns.

"Blaine? What is this?" He enquires curiously.

"Oh, this? I was carrying a bottle of beer to my dad and I dropped it last night. We were all pretty tired so we figured we'd clean it this morning. I was just about to do it when you knocked." Blaine lies unconvincingly.

"Sure. Well, I'm sorry I came at a bad time." Kurt says, genuinely apologetic.

"No, no! Not at all. I'm happy to see you, Kurt." Blaine hugs his boyfriend, being careful to hide his injury.

"Blaine? What _is _this?" Kurt spots the bandaged hand and, eventually, the scar.

Blaine sighs. This is the moment he has dreaded for a year, since he and Kurt got together.

"It's…I'll explain everything, okay? Just not here. Right, let's go for breakfast somewhere and I'll tell you everything." Blaine stutters out. "Let me just get a long sleeved shirt." Blaine hops upstairs and changes his clothes and deodorises whilst Kurt looks around. He notes the acrid stench of alcohol lingering in the air and for a moment thinks there's truth to Blaine's explanation. That would explain the bandage. Just as he thought that, Blaine came shooting down the stairs, eager to leave the house.

They get in Blaine's car and drive to The Lima Bean for coffees and breakfast where Blaine is about to spill his deepest emotions and become completely devoid of secrecy.

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**A/N: This should basically be called 'Blangst: The Complete Saga' or something like that because it's basically 99% Blangst with 1% Klaine fluffiness in it. Hope you liked. Please review. I'd love it if you did! :D**


	2. I've Had Enough

Chapter 2

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"See Kurt, the first thing you have to understand is that my family is the polar opposite of yours. Burt loves you so very much that it's impossible not to see how much he does. Carole considers you very much one of her own children despite no biological attachment and Finn is a wonderful brother." Blaine trails off, waiting for Kurt to react to that.

"And…?"

"My family isn't like that. I'll start with the past. My dad has hated me ever since I came out to them. He dreamed of having this perfect straight son who would get a football scholarship and marry this beautiful woman and have gorgeous children and a perfect life in Ohio. Instead, he got a gay son. One who wants an indulgent future in New York with his high school boyfriend and a career in music. My mother is more tolerant of my sexuality, but my dad makes her hate me too. That leads to this." Blaine pointed at his cheek. "But I'll explain that in a minute. My brother walked out on us to become an actor in Hollywood and moved to L.A."

"What about now?" Kurt presses, eager to know where Blaine's pain came from and how he could stop it. He hates seeing Blaine hurting as much as he is. He hates the anguish shimmering in his dark golden eyes when his family is mentioned. Kurt should have known. The fragments should've clicked together. The dying fire growing cold in his eyes with any mention of how wonderful Burt was being was one obvious sign. Another sign that Kurt should have noticed was the reluctance to invite Kurt over to his house whilst his parents were there. Kurt had been over at Blaine's a lot, but only because his parents were absent and would have no knowledge of his presence.

"Now is the worst moment to live in my house." Blaine wryly holds up his bandaged hand to display to Kurt. Kurt gasps quietly but maintains his composure, primarily to ensure that Blaine doesn't crack under the stress and the pain of his story. "My dad hit me last night. He threw a beer at the wall, which he meant to aim for my head, and then punched me when he missed. I was out cold until earlier this morning. I was trying to get up when I grasped this piece of glass and hurt my hand." Blaine explained and then pointed to his cheek. "I got this from Mum. She slapped me and I fell into the cabinets behind me." Blaine said sadly. Kurt grasped his hand, affection emanating from him.

Blaine continues to explain every event that has happened, including his flirtatious affair with self-harm that only recently ceased to be.

Kurt listens intently to every word, absorbing all possible information so he can find ways to comfort his brave boyfriend.

"I'm sorry for freaking you out with all of this, Kurt. We should be enjoying ourselves." Blaine apologises adamantly. Kurt shakes his head.

"Blaine, I would rather you tell me things that you can't tell anybody else. It keeps us closer and I love you so much. I want to help you fight your demons, as you helped me fight mine."

"Thank you, Kurt, for being so supportive and cool about this. I love you."

"I love you too."

The day passed with no further mention of Blaine's past/present, but Kurt did rather shiftily look at Blaine's covered arms once in a while. Now that Kurt was aware of it, he was truly aware it.

They part soon after meeting. Kurt explains that he has to help Burt out in the shop and that he'd call Blaine as soon as he could.

Blaine returns home a while after leaving Kurt. He paces around in wide circles around various different blocks, in no mood to return to the soul-sucking hellhole some care to call home. He does return though, and his arrival begins with a raucous slam of the front door. He heard a gravelly grunt from his father, so Blaine just tramples upstairs and sequesters himself in his room of solace; his bedroom. The walls are adorned with various music artists and Broadway shows (in spite of his dad's wishes), just the way Blaine likes it. He spots his guitar standing on its pedestal in the far corner of the room. Blaine had used fancy arts and crafts supplies to embroider italic lyrics on the guitar, but not ruining it. Many mock-ups were carried out, just so he didn't make a mess of his beloved instrument. The lyrics '_What you got, when all you got is hurt?' _from _One _by _U2 _were scrawled on it in elegant scripture. They were Blaine's favourite lyrics in the entire planet so he wanted to commemorate his receiving of the guitar with a personal touch. It applied to his situation in life and still does. His guitar brings him light when there seems to only be darkness for miles. It's a wispy candle that only burns out at his request. The fire of music, though, remains within Blaine wherever he goes. It's one of the only things that keeps him sane sometimes, when things get really tough and he feels like he can't continue.

He clutches his guitar and plectrum and perches himself on the end of his bed. Strumming a couple of times to warm up, Blaine plays the melody to _Cough Syrup _by _Young the Giant_. It's one of his favourite songs, ever, and when he plays it, he feels it. He connects with the music; he and the beat blend and become one soul, one heartbeat rhythmically beating like the spirit of Blaine's musicality.

Things like this keep him grounded. When Kurt isn't around, it's all he has in life to stop him from going crazy with hurt. Blaine is always quite surprised that he hasn't ran away as of now, anyway. There is nothing stopping him. He could probably crash with Kurt for a couple of days/weeks until he got the money together for his own place. Baring in mind, Kurt would probably extend the invitation of his hospitality for eternity. Knowing himself as he does, Blaine would probably accept reluctantly, not wanting to hurt Kurt, but not wanting to impose, either.

He only knows that Kurt is there for him whenever he needs to speak to him. Thus begins the healing process. Blaine needs to get it started as soon as if he's ever going to be fully happy again. The phone rings a while after, and Blaine immediately accepts the call, interrupting the composition of his newest song writing endeavour. It's Kurt. He's asking if Blaine wants to come over for the night. Blaine enthusiastically accepts, and heads there straight away. He has more unravelling to do. Unravelling of his past, present and future, but first, he has to tell Kurt everything. And by everything, Blaine means _everything_.

And everything might just break their relationship.

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**A/N: I'm quite sad, because I really like this story, but it hasn't been getting the recognition that I'd had hoped. It has 66 views as of now, no reviews, 4 followers and 2 favourites. I spent a while on these chapters and I hope in the future it gets what I think it should. :) **


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